


Reflections of Us

by kereia



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Banter, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Masturbation, Pre-Series, Sex Pollen, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/pseuds/kereia
Summary: Johnny is having one hell of a bad week. Him and Dutch getting covered in literal, honest-to-god, sex pollen is so not what he needs right now.





	Reflections of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).



 

 

Johnny was having a bad week.

It wasn't just the gun pressed to his temple, or the prosthetic hand gripping his arm hard enough to cut off his circulation.

No, between his membership to the RAC being denied, his failure to upgrade Lucy's engines, and her subsequent radio silence, (Not that he blamed her. He had tried to install a new catalytic converter contrary to her advice, and it may have, almost, _just a tiny bit_  (hardly worth the mention, really) _exploded_.) as well as Dutch's frosty manner during their three day journey to Eden station, (which would have lasted a mere twelve hours had he not messed with aforementioned engines,) he was ready to close the book on weak seventy-eight a.m.D. (after meeting Dutch).

He was reasonably sure that week seventy-nine a.m.D. couldn't turn out any worse than this.

 

* * *

 

 

“Easy,” Amarantha Dawson whispered in his ear as she pulled him between two rows of hydro-cultures. Large, green leaves brushed against his shoulders, and a sickly sweet scent filled his nose. “Don't try to be a hero.”

Dutch levelled her blaster at both of them. “No worries. Johnny is our resident damsel in distress. I had to pull him out from under a collapsed engine block just a few days ago.”

She followed them through the hydroponic garden, her movements fluid and confident, like a feline predator stalking prey.

“Hey,” Johnny objected, still not feeling too hot about that particular embarrassment. “I apologized for that.”

The scent was getting stronger. He wrinkled his nose, trying to ease the unpleasant prickling that had started up.

Dutch gave him a ferocious grin. It was his third favourite smile of hers, though he preferred to have it directed at other people. “You almost blew up my ship, Johnny. I have half a mind to leave you and your impulsive ass right here on Eden station.”

Johnny knew she was joking. He was ninety-nine percent sure. Yes, that last sentence had had a bit of a bite to it, but there was no way he'd pissed her off enough to actually leave him behind.

With another step, he and Amarantha cleared the planting rows. Her mechanical hand tightened around his arm, and Johnny's arm began to tingle. He flexed his fingers.

“Come on, now. My ass might be a lot of things, Dutch – finely sculpted, for one – but it is not impulsive.” He gave her his most charming lop-sided grin, but Dutch remained unimpressed.

“The hell it isn't,” she shot back. Her smile became sharper. Keeping the distance between them steady, she stepped around a grow tray. The changed angle gave her a better line of fire. Or so Johnny hoped.

“It's because of your lack of self-restraint that we're in this mess. Failing the examination? Blowing up Lucy? (“Almost,” he interjected reflexively, but Dutch only rolled her eyes.) And now, this? I turn my back for five seconds, and you get taken hostage.”

He winced. Admittedly, he had jumped the gun on this warrant. He'd felt guilty about the engine failure and had wanted to make it up to her. Getting answers out of Dawson would have gone a long way to clear his debt.

(Still, he was, like, ninety-seven percent sure that she would keep him around, regardless of his recent screw-ups.)

Behind him, Dawson made an impatient noise. “Will the two of you shut up?” she snarled. “I've got enough troubles of my own. I'm not interested in yours.”

Johnny half turned his head. They'd almost reached the door. From there it wasn't far to the docking bay. To his consternation, the itch in his nostrils did not abate, and he felt his eyes water.

He was going to sneeze. Oh, hell, he was totally going to...

“Achoo!”

(Okay, ninety-two percent.)

A lot of things happened at once. By the time they were all over, the acrid smell of blaster discharges filled the air, and Amarantha Dawson was gone.

Dutch and Johnny lay among the broken remains of several grow trays, torn leaves and blossoms scattered around them. Their clothes were wet. Pink and orange pollen clung to their skin. The air was so heavy with the flowers' stench that it made them gag.

With a curse, Dutch scrambled to her feet. “Don't just lie there. We need to get her.” She didn't wait for a response, but tore out of the room, her weapon still clutched in her hand.

 

* * *

 

By the time Johnny caught up to her, she'd cornered Dawson in the crowded loading bay.

Dawson was not alone anymore, but stood next to a tall woman with long, dark hair, and slanted eyes. Both of them had blasters trained on Dutch. A crowd had gathered around them, onlookers who appeared curious, but were unlikely to interfere.

“I am not going back to the lock-up. I haven't done anything wrong,” Dawson said.

The woman next to her nodded emphatically. Her eyes were dark with anger. “Yeah, you're not taking her. Her record has been clean since she got out of there.”

Dutch tilted her head to the side. “We're not here for her,” she said. Though her tone was more irritated then outright confrontational, the weapon in her hand never wavered.

Johnny flanked her, but kept his own weapon pointed at the ground. Sweat was beading on his brow, and his clothes were starting to feel uncomfortably tight and scratchy. He had numerous small lacerations on his hands and face, and even though they hardly bled, he had to fight against the growing urge to scratch them.

Dawson looked at him accusingly. “He said you were Reclamation Agents.”

With a nod, Dutch pulled her identification out of her back pocket. She moved her shoulders, appearing uncomfortable, and took a deep breath. “We are, but our warrant isn't for you.”

Dawson exchanged a glance with the woman by her side. “Then what do you want from me?” she asked, a note of confusion in her voice.

“We're looking for your ex-wife. We were told you know where to find her.”

Dawson laughed bitterly. “You're looking for Benia? Why the fuck didn't you say so? Her, you can lock up, anytime. I have no problem with that.”

Johnny felt the need to speak up. He also felt the need to get his sodden clothes off his body, but that would have to wait.

“I would have gotten to that, if you hadn't pulled a gun on me,” he said.

Dutch shot him an indecipherable look, and he shrugged, feeling a little guilty. The sensation settled like a stone inside his abdomen, leaving an odd sort of pressure behind that made him shift uncomfortably.

Dawson sighed and lowered her gun. The woman by her side did the same, and Johnny finally noticed the matching wedding bands on their hands.

“Benia is hiding out somewhere on Westerly,” Dawson said. “Steel Cove, last I heard. She's into the local racing circuit. You might want to start there.”

Johnny winced. They'd have to go all the way back to where they started. Judging from the expression on Dutch's face, she was not happy about the idea of spending another three days on that return journey. He really needed to get Lucy's engine fixed.

However, for the moment, Dutch simply nodded. “Thank you,” she said and lowered her own weapon.

She turned to Johnny, but Dawson stepped forward, a sardonic smile tugging at her mouth.

“Before you go, you might want to take care of that,” she said with a vague gesture that encompassed their rumpled appearance.

Dutch fixed her with a level gaze. “We have showers on our ship,” she replied with a faint note of annoyance.

“Honey, you are covered in Kassagia Velcantosia pollen.”

A low rumble of laughter rolled through the crowd around them.

Dutch froze, her eyes going wide. Johnny followed her gaze down to the powdery substance that covered her skin and clothes, then darted down to his own body. A low wave of heat washed through his body.

“Uhm... Dutch?” he asked, cautiously. “What is she talking about?”

Dutch closed her eyes and exhaled audibly. She pressed her lips together. “Spark, Johnny,” she explained, naming the popular aphrodisiac that was used throughout the Quad. “We're covered in Spark.”

His first thought was: _that's not too bad._ He'd used Spark on one or two occasions, enjoying the mild buzz it provided. It's effects typically didn't last long, so he didn't quite understand why Dutch looked worried.

Dawson exchanged a look with her wife, who shrugged. “You know, if you'd like us to, we'd be happy to take care of you. This is Eden station, after all. We're not shy about that sort of thing.”

The corners of Dutch's mouth fluttered up into a toothless grin that didn't reach her eyes. (It was smile number twelve on Johnny's list, and he'd always considered it a prelude to what was sure to be a very unpleasant lecture on personal boundaries. He'd never given her cause to direct that smile at him, but it never ceased to amaze him, how many people did.)

“I have two hands and a whole box full of toys,” she said decisively. “I'm good, thanks.”

A tall, blond man stepped forward. Muscles flexed under his shirt as he fondled a baton. He looked her up and down, grinning confidently. “Well, if it's toys your interested in...” A few people laughed.

Instinctively, Johnny lifted his weapon, even though he knew that Dutch liked to fight her own battles. He shook his head in disbelief as his stomach muscles clenched in revulsion. _Honestly, some people..._

But Dutch had the situation under control. She fixed him with a flat, hard stare...

...and then she smiled.

The man's complexion went ashen. He looked away, took a step back, and even the people behind him shuffled sideways when they saw the expression on Dutch's face.

Johnny couldn't help but chuckle. His heart beat faster. Why the hell was it so damn hot in here?

Dawson shrugged. “What about you, handsome?”

Johnny blinked at her, surprised that his body at least didn't seem wholly adverse to the offer. In fact, he noticed, with a fair amount of mortification as he shifted awkwardly, his body was very definitely interested. His pants started to feel a little tight. Apparently, Spark was far more potent in its unprocessed form that he would have thought.

“No toys,” he said with a shaky laugh. A blush stole up his neck. “But two hands. Good dexterity...” His brain finally caught up to his ears, and his head snapped towards Dutch. “Really? A whole box full?"

Dutch sighed. “Johnny?”

“Yes.”

“Focus.”

“Right.” He holstered his weapon. The barrel brushed against his thigh, and a shiver ran through him at the light friction. _Holy shit._ He needed to get out of here.

“Thanks, but we're good. And also, leaving. Right now.” He strode quickly towards the back of the hanger bay. The crowd parted before him. It seemed that no one wanted to come in contact with the substance on his skin. Though he caught more than one knowing smile and laughing whisper as he made his way to Lucy's berth.

Dutch fell into step next to him, her expression indecipherable.

“Suit yourself, but this is undiluted and unprocessed Velcantosia.” Dawson called after them. “It has a responsive bio-electric component. You won't be able to take care of this on your own."

Dutch cursed under her breath. “We'll take our chances,” she shouted over her shoulder.

Reaching Lucy, she all but ran up the loading ramp.

“I'm sorry,” Johnny said as he followed her, but Dutch held up a hand.

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Her hand was trembling as her gaze fell to his groin. She swallowed hard and bit her lip.

Heat rushed through Johnny even as he tried to cover his obvious erection behind his hands.

“Showers. Now.” she said finally and turned away.

 

* * *

 

Dutch closed her eyes as the water cascaded down her body. Her hands brushed along her sides, down to her stomach. The delicious, warm sensation of arousal shivered through her. Now, that she was finally alone and could do something about it, she felt her annoyance drain away. Her hands ghosts along her thighs, and she moaned softly.

 _Might as well make it last_ , she thought.

Half an hour later, she threw herself into the pilot chair and notified Eden station of their immanent departure. She felt calm and sated, her fear that the Spark's effect would last far longer than was usual washed away by the orgasms she had teased from her body.

A small, satisfied smile settled on her face. She almost felt magnanimous enough to forgive Johnny for very nearly destroying her ship. She might even help him prepare to take the RAC examination again.

Setting the auto-pilot, she made her way to the mess hall. Johnny was standing by the counter, his lean body clad in a black shirt and matching pants that seemed almost indecently tight. The sight brought her up short. Her eyes followed the line of his shoulder, down his back to the curve of his ass. She suddenly had the overwhelming urge to grab it.

She shook her head _. Those are his normal clothes,_ she admonished herself. _They are certainly not any tighter than they were yesterday._

Then she cursed as she realized what was happening.

She must have made a noise, because Johnny looked over his shoulder with a guileless smile.

“Hey, there. I noticed that we're on our way back. Thought you might like some food.”

Taking a deep breath, Dutch decided to ignore the unfurling warmth in the pit of her stomach. “That would be nice.” She sat down at the far end of the table, careful to keep as much distance between them as possible.

Picking up two plates, he approached, and Dutch's eyes were irrevocably drawn to the movement of his hips. She rubbed a hand over her face.

_For heaven's sake. He is just walking. Like a normal person. Get a grip._

When she looked up at him, she noticed that he'd stopped, still a foot short of the table. He had a slightly dazed expression on his face and swallowed nervously.

“You too, huh?” Dutch asked acerbically. Her previous good mood had all but evaporated.

“Uhm... yeah. I thought, I'd taken care of it, but...”

Dutch sighed and reined in her temper. “Let's just eat, okay?”

“Okay.”

He gingerly placed one of the plates in front of her, then quickly retreated to the other end of the table and sat down. He shifted in his seat as he picked up his fork, and Dutch's gaze fell to his hands. She knew there were callouses on those fingers, knew they were strong (“Good dexterity”, she recalled, his voice - the deep, rough timbre - almost a caress inside her mind), and the muscles in her abdomen seized almost painfully at the memory.

She barely managed to suppress a gasp and clenched her thighs together.

“Dutch?” Johnny's voice was rough, his breathing laboured, and that just made _everything_ worse.

“Yes?”

“Please, stop looking at me that way.”

“What way?” she ground out, her eyes meeting his wide-eyed stare across the table.

His Adam's apple bobbed nervously, and he shifted in his seat again, and Dutch could tell that he was hard beneath the table.

“As if you want to devour me.”

She fled to her room and pulled out her precious box of toys.

 

* * *

 

 

Her night was troubled. Agonizingly so.

She brought herself to climax before falling into fitful rest, only to awake hours later, her skin covered in sweat, her thighs slick with arousal, moaning and tangled in her sheets, hips undulating against the mattress. Her body chased one orgasm after another, before she would fall back asleep, only for the cycle to repeat ad nauseam. By the time she crawled into the shower it was midday, and she was positively sick of everything.

Washing the sweat off her body, she would have been perfectly happy to know that she would never have to experience another orgasm ever again. What had once been an experience of pleasure had turned into a bitter, soulless labour that frustrated her to the bone.

To make matters worse, the aphrodisiac had yet to leave her body, a fact she discovered when she dried herself off with a towel and the friction send more irritating shivers along her skin.

Thoroughly disgusted, she flung the towel onto the floor, dressed and made her way to the medbay.

 

* * *

 

Lying on the iron grating below Lucy's engines, Johnny stripped the wiring off a converter module and did his best to ignore the raging hard-on that had been a near constant companion for the past twenty-four hours. He'd barely slept, and had spent most of the night alternating between masturbating and mentally disassembling Lucy's engines in an effort to both curb his arousal and figure out how to fix the ship's hyper-drive.

While his wake-up call had left him decidedly frustrated with his body, he had at least found some satisfaction in his repair endeavours.

“Almost there,” he mumbled under his breath and reached for a soldering iron. It slipped from his sweat-slicked fingers and fell through the grating. With a sigh, Johnny rolled onto his stomach, intending to lower himself onto the floor below, but the minute his cock was pressed into the ragged steel below him, Johnny stilled. Or tried to, at least. His body was trembling too hard, and he balled his hand into a fist.

“Oh, for fuck's sake.”

With a frustrated growl, he flung himself onto his back, tore at his pants, and wrapped his hand around his dick.

Ten minutes later, Dutch found him, just as he pulled himself back onto the grating with the soldering iron now securely clasped to his utility belt. She offered him a steaming mug with a clear, foul smelling liquid. She was sipping the same beverage from a second mug.

“What's this?”

“Something that will flush the Spark out of your system. Drink up. It took me all day to extract the chemical compounds from our medical supplies and mix them back together properly.”

Wrinkling his nose, he blew across the liquid and took a small sip. It tasted just as bad as it smelled. Not that he cared. It couldn't gulp it down fast enough, even if he burned his tongue in the process.

“Thank you,” he said and set the mug down by his tools.

“How are the repairs going?”

Rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, he gave her a hesitant smile. “I'm almost done. Lucy should be back in top shape in an hour or two.”

She nodded, relief obvious in her eyes. “That's good to hear.”

Warmth whispered along his skin, and before he realized what he was doing, his hand ghosted along her cheek. Dutch closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering.

“Johnny.”

He swallowed the sudden urge to lean forward and capture her mouth with his. His eyes were drawn to the quiver in her bottom lip, and he exhaled in a low, halting moan.

“How long does it take for your brew to kick in?” he asked shakily.

Pressing her lips together (which made him tense, and hard, and _ravenous,_ damn it), she let her forehead fall against his chest.

“It was supposed to take effect immediately,” she said despairingly.

Her hand splayed against his abdomen, and he shivered as the heat of her skin sunk into his.

“Okay,” he said hoarsely and wrapped his hands around her upper arms. Her skin was impossibly soft against his palms, and he lingered, fingers trailing from her shoulders to her elbows. “Okay, here is what we're going to do. We are both going to step back at the same time.”

Her head came up. Her lips were parted, her pupils dilated, and she looked so damn fucking kissable that it seemed downright sinful not to do it. But she nodded and composed herself.

“On three,” she said roughly even as her hands fisted in his shirt. “One, two,...”

They stood, frozen, breaths harsh underneath the hum of Lucy's engines.

It took Johnny a long moment to marshall every last ounce of his self-control. “Three,” he finished and gently pushed her away from him. He was burning.

Abruptly, he turned away, his hands clenching around the catwalk's railing, holding on for dear life.

 

* * *

 

She didn't bother with toys or even basic finesse. The moment the door closed behind her, Dutch threw herself face down onto the bed, hand buried in her underwear. She sank her teeth into the mattress and rubbed at the nerve cluster between her legs, her hips rutting against the blanket.

There was no pleasure in this unrelenting desire that seemed to have gnawed itself into her bones. It was just nauseating, now, almost painful.

Her free hand balled into a fist, her fingernails breaking the skin of her palm. She wanted to scream.

Instead, she reached for the drawer next to her bed and ripped it open. Her fingers pressed harder against her clit, her hips jerked violently, and in a daze of frustration and rage, her hand closed around the hilt of a knife.

She slammed the blade into the mattress, her eyes alight with viciousness. Over and over she buried the knife in the crisp white sheets, blood roaring in her ears, until finally, mercifully, her body relented, crested, and fell.

Dutch was breathing hard, and to her annoyance, she could feel the sting of tears in her eyes.

 _This can't go on_ , she thought dimly as she slipped off the bed and curled into a ball. _It has to stop._

She rearranged her limbs into into a cross-legged position and took deep and calming breaths. Her mind turned to Johnny who was most likely suffering exactly as she did, trying to coax one more orgasm out of a body that was sick and tired of the stimulation. This whole situation had her seriously contemplating life-long celibacy.

_It has to stop._

Johnny.

The more she though about it, the more irrational it seemed that they both kept fighting against the effects of the Spark. After everything they'd been through, and with everything they were going through right now, was sex really the thing that was going to break them apart? Surely, their friendship was far too solid for that.

Dutch glanced at her mutilated mattress and made a decision.

 

* * *

 

She hadn't even made it halfway to his quarters, before Johnny rounded a corner, and they both came to a dead stop. He was in a similar state of disarray, half his clothes discarded and the same expression of frustration on his face.

“This is ridiculous,” Dutch said.

He nodded and ran a hand over his head. “I agree.”

“We are friends, right?”

“Of course, we are.”

She stepped forward, grasped his upper arms, and pressed her body against the solid warmth of his naked chest. His eyes widened with both shock and arousal, and his hands settled around her waist. Immediately, the callouses on his fingers lit up her skin.

“We always have each other's back,” Dutch continued, breath turning shallow. “And I trust you.”

He swallowed hard, and she had to visibly restrain herself from flicking her tongue over his bobbing Adam's apple. Gods, she really did want to devour him.

“I trust you, too,” he said hoarsely.

“So we agree, then?” she asked. “Our friendship can totally survive a little sex, right?” She looked up at him imploringly, biting down on her own lip to keep her teeth from sinking into his.

His breath was uneven as he nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then let's get this over with.”

He blinked, his stormy gaze clearing momentarily. “Get it over with? Charming.”

“Johnny.” She tried really hard not to roll her eyes at him. This blasted artificial desire sat like a lump of lead inside her abdomen, and all she wanted was to be rid of it.

He sighed. “No, you're right. Let's get it over with.”

Dutch gave him a grateful smile, pulled his head down and kissed him frenziedly.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, can you just put your leg up here?”

“I need a little more pressure, Johnny.”

“Yeah, let me just...”

“A little more to the right.”

“I'm trying, but my wrist is getting kinda cramped. Can you lift your hips?”

“Okay, this is _not_ working.”

“I'm trying to get more leverage, here.”

“Leverage is not the problem.”

“Ouch. Fuck!”

“What? Johnny, what's wrong?”

“Cramp. Ah, cramp in my leg... Fuck, that's not a good kind of hurt. Hold on... I'll just...”

There was a dull thud as Johnny fell off the bed.

Dutch tried to shake off her frustration; she knew it was not entirely her own, but brought on by the incessant overstimulation of the aphrodisiac. It amplified every sensation, overloading her nerves to the point where they could no longer differentiate pleasure from pain. It made every touch equally arousing and uncomfortable.

She rolled onto her stomach and looked over the edge of the mattress. “Everything okay down there?”

Johnny glanced at his drooping cock, his expression chagrined. “Not really.”

Dutch bit down on her lip at his despondent tone of voice. He sat on the floor, half-bend over his legs, his left hand pulling at his toes as he tried to stretch the cramp out of his calf muscles. It really, _really_ shouldn't make her want to laugh. But this entire situation was simply too absurd.

He glanced up at her, saw the look on her face, and grinned in that self-deprecating manner that she'd always found unreasonably endearing. Running a hand through his short-cropped hair, he fell back onto the cold steel floor, uncaring of his modesty. Dutch approved. They were well and truly beyond that, now.

“Wow, I never thought we'd actually be bad at this.”

Dutch rested her chin on her folded hands. “Yeah, neither did I.”

“It's like there's this fundamental disconnect between my head and...” he gestured towards his groin, “...my other head. Kinda reminds me of that summer I cracked my dad's password for his net interface.”

A knowing laugh bubbled up her throat. “Oh, let me guess. Porn?”

“So much porn. Like, _all_ the porn. I didn't get a whole lot of sleep those first few days, I spent so much time watching it.” His smile faltered. “My dad was super-pissed when he found out. Couldn't sit down for a couple of days after.”

Sympathy did not come easily to Dutch, but Johnny was different. He was her touch stone, her anchor, the only constant in this crazy, unsettled life of hers. And more than that, he was her friend, the only one she had allowed into her life, and somehow, with him, it felt natural to reach out and try to chase the shadows from his eyes.

He caught her hand and cleared his throat as his fingers slipped between hers. His thumb brushed along the inside of her palm, and the touch shivered through her, the sensation not wholly unpleasant anymore.

“Anyway, after a while... okay, a long while...” he flashed her a half embarrassed smile, a blush stealing into his cheeks, “I noticed this weird thing happening, where my body was still super horny, but my brain was just... I don't know...”

“Mind-numbingly bored?” Dutch supplied.

He nodded. “Exactly.” A frown settled on his face as he looked up at her. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I got us into this mess. I shouldn't have gone after Dawson on my own.”

“Hey.” She pulled at him, coaxing him back onto the bed. “It's okay,” she said and realized that she meant it.

“I got sloppy.”

“Stop it.”

They stretched out side by side, and Dutch untangled her fingers from his to smooth her thumb across his knitted brow. “There 's no way you could have seen how this would turn out. I mean, sex pollen? Come on. It's ridiculous.”

He sighed. His fingertips ghosted across her shoulder blade. “What's ridiculous, is that we've been low-key torturing ourself for two days, when we could have taken care of this right there on Eden station.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Dutch's mouth, and her hand settled on his waist. “Well, we certainly had enough offers.”

His hand trailed down her arm, a lazy caress designed to sooth rather then excite. She leaned into it and closed her eyes. The constant ache inside her abdomen seemed to abate, drowned out by a subtle wave of warmth.

She felt the brush of his lips against her neck and allowed her head to fall back into his pillow. His breath shivered across the warm, wet skin his mouth left behind as he kissed a trail along her throat.

“Though, I have to say,” he murmured, “that some of those offers were a little creepy.”

A low sound, half groan, half snort, tumbled from her mouth. “Oh, that blond guy was the worst,” she agreed.

Johnny grinned at her. “It was really satisfying how he went from bravado to nearly shitting himself when you flashed him smile number two, though. That was great.”

She looked at him askance. “Smile number two?”

“Yeah. You know... all teeth and powered by a thousand megawatts of unholy glee? The one that says 'Mess with me, and I will break you.'” He scrunched up his nose. “And you will like it.”

Dutch laughed. A flush stole up her body. It was not in her nature to feel shy, but there was something in Johnny's eyes, a quiet sort of reverence, that made her almost bashful.

“It's my second favourite smile of yours,” he said with a crooked grin, his palm flattening against her ribs, fingertips barely brushing against her chest.

“Oh gods, you have a list?” she asked, incredulously. She wasn't sure why she found that so absurdly charming, but as his hand cupped her breast, she decided that it didn't matter. His thumb rubbed feather-light across her nipple, and she gasped. Heat rushed through her veins, flushing the remainder of her frustration away.

“I have many lists.” His voice was quieter, lower, now, his breathing laboured. Why, oh, why had she never noticed how ridiculously sexy his voice was before?

She raked her fingernails across his scalp and drew his mouth to her chest. To her delight, he followed her guidance easily, lavishing attention on her until she was short of breath, full blown arousal suffusing her senses.

“Care to share?” she panted as his hand slipped between her thighs.

“Maybe later. Because right now, it looks as if you're starting to enjoy yourself.” She opened herself to him, barely suppressing a whimper when his fingers sank into her slick, soft heat. She bit her lip and pressed her forehead against his as his thumb gently skimmed along her clit.

“Maybe a little,” she conceded.

He kissed her, mouth slanting wet and eager against hers, his tongue inviting hers to duel – the reckless passion in that kiss an enticing contrast to the tenderness of his hands. She moaned, and he swallowed the sound. A smug little smile tugged at his lips when they came up for air.

“Maybe a lot?” he asked with a devilish grin that made her heart stutter.

“Don't get cocky, now.”

He looked down at the hard, pulsing length pressed against her stomach. “It's a little too late for that.”

She huffed out a groan and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on. That was a good pun.”

She punched his shoulder. “It really wasn't.” Then she fastened her lips to the soft skin underneath his chin and sucked.

He drew in a ragged breath. His hips jerked against hers, and his finger delved deeper into her cunt.

“Could you curl them a little?” she requested breathlessly, and when he complied her whole body shuddered against him.

“Like this?”

“Yes. Oh, fuck, that's perfect.”

She felt herself drowning blissfully, her body overwhelmed by pure, blinding pleasure instead of the chafing arousal that had been her constant companion for the past few days.

Inhaling deeply, Dutch drew in his scent, a spicy, dark, musk that made her blood hum. Her thighs were trembling. She was so close. So very close.

“Johnny, I usually enjoy myself more when I'm on top.”

A warm, quiet look was in his eyes as he brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “Come on, then,” he said and rolled over. His hand settled against the small of her back, pulling her with him.

Dutch didn't want to wait any longer. She braced herself above him, one hand wrapping around the silken length of his cock, while the other pressed steadily against his abdomen. Sinking down, she sheathed him fully, his girth slipping easily through the wetness of her folds until he bottomed out inside her.

With a blissful moan, she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation of fullness in her belly. Her hand slid to his hip, her thumb rubbing tiny circles into his skin.

“Better?” he asked, his voice rough, almost growling with the strain of controlling his desire. Dutch took pity on him (and herself, if she was honest) and moved.

“Very. Anything I can do to make it better for you?”

She rolled her hips, drawing a moan from both of them. Johnny's body surged up into hers, even as his hand splayed against her thigh. His thumb found her clit again, coating it in her juices, and gently pressing against her.

That crooked grin ghosted across his face again. “I'm good actually, though I wouldn't mind some cuddling after.”

Her airless whimper turned into a chocking laugh. Heat spiralled through her as her eyes found his, but the solemn weight of his gaze took her aback.

“You're serious,” she realized.

He shrugged, his eyes darting away for a moment, and Dutch felt suddenly ashamed. He'd made himself vulnerable, exposed a part that few were allowed to see. All because he trusted her. She felt herself teetering on the brink of a chasm, and knew if she didn't bridge it, she would lose that trust, and with it, maybe even their friendship.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. Leaning forward, she pressed a tender kiss to his mouth, pouring every drop of love and sincerity into it that she felt, but did not know how to express. Pulling back, she nevertheless tried. “I didn't realize that intimacy is important to you. I'm afraid, I'm far more cynical in that regard.” She tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps more than I should be. I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious.”

He rose, abdominal muscles tensing beneath her hands, and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. The move drove him deeper into her, and in spite of the serious moment between them, she couldn't quite stifle the gasp it forced out of her lungs.

“It's okay,” he said softly, “I like sharing a part of myself – make a connection. I mean, otherwise, what's the point?”

A wave of fondness rose inside her. It swept up her heart, flooding it with tenderness as she held his face between her palms.

“Johnny, I adore you, but one of these days that big heart of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

He shrugged again, but the crooked smile was back, and his gaze held nothing but warmth and a quiet, tranquil surety that stole her breath away. “It got me here. With you and Lucy,” he said and kissed her jaw. His hips rolled up into hers. “Nowhere else I'd rather be.”

She looked at him, a sense of wonder stealing over her, and with it came a fierce protectiveness that coiled inside her chest.

While one of his hands had returned to lightly tease her clit, the other cupped her cheek. His smile was tender as he brushed against the corners of her upturned mouth. “Ah, there it is. My favourite.”

She placed her hand on top of his, and rocked against him. Pleasure unfurled through her body, and she let herself be swept away by the rising waves. “What does this one say?” she whispered, her voice absolutely wrecked.

“That I surprised you.”

She fell, then, tumbling heedlessly, her climax slow and languid like the rolling tide. It drove the air from her lungs, and she was barely able to brace her hands beside Johnny's shoulders as his body arched up below her, his muscles trembling as she clenched around him.

She could feel the tension ease inside her, feel the pleasure sweep away the need, that relentless hunger that had burrowed so deeply into her bones that she had been afraid she might never carve it out again.

It took her a long time, before she came back to her senses.

With a shaking breath, she eased herself off him, only to flop boneless against his side.

His arm came around her shoulders and drew her back into the solid warmth of his body. She all but purred when his hand idly brushed along the soft skin at the small of her back.

“Are you staying?” he murmured against her forehead.

“Yes, but I want it to be very clear that I'm in no way, shape, or form enjoying this,” she groused, trusting him to pick out the playful note in her voice. Just to make sure, she snuggled further into his embrace.

She could feel his smile against her temple. “Right.”

“It's just that I kind of murdered my mattress, earlier.”

He froze, obviously unsure whether or not she was joking. “Uhm...”

“With a knife,” she clarified. “It was very satisfying.”

For a moment, he remained perfectly still beside her, then he buried his face in her hair and laughed.

Dutch pursed her lips into smile number eight (the one that spoke of victory and vanquished enemies) and closed her eyes.

 

 


End file.
